Charged (11 page)

“Each is marked,” he says, smiling widely. “don’t worry about them paying you. We have them on a tab.” I nod, grab the group of bags and head out to the garage. 

“Parker,” I say, handing him his food. He’s the tattooed guy from earlier, that was under the blue car’s dash. Goddamn, his tattoos make him irresistible to look at. He has a bright pin up girl on one arm, the navy insignia on the other, and striking golden eyes that seem to bore right through you without him uttering a word.  

“Tank, Jackson, Buck and Mitch,” I say, reading each of the marked styrofoam containers. I hand them all out in the order they were placed in the bags, but I don’t see Travis or Ryker’s food. I had hoped theirs would have been at the top so I could bypass the conversation with Ryker, but it seems Gus is playing me. There are only four left which can only mean that theirs, the guy I met earlier when I came in the garage and Jack’s are the last. 

“Clit,” I call out, but my cheeks flame when I realize just what I said. Shit. I guess Gus had made a slight error when spelling the name out.  “So sorry. I mean Clint.” God, kill me know. 

“No, sweetheart, Gus had it right. You’re the one that’s wrong. It’s Clit,” he says, dragging his tongue along his teeth.

“Here.” I’m sure he thinks it’s adorable, I think it’s disgusting. Clit jumps forward into my personal space, pulling me tight to his body. He looks down at me dangerously, his bright green eyes shimmering and shining, giving off a creepy, stalker, serial killer, rapist feel. Why is it that I suddenly feel like I’m in the middle of a horror movie, running, screaming, and all the while working my way back to the killer at the end of the hall with a hatchet? 

“It’s a nickname, darlin’. I have a thing for sweet pussy. Want me to give you
your
tip?” He flicks his tongue out, dragging it along my cheek, all the way down to the seam of my mouth. I try to jerk away, but he has me so tight to his chest I can’t move. “I can show you a good time if you let me,” he says in a low voice, his lips against my skin. “I’ll light you on fire.” 

I shiver internally, but I don’t want him to know how he makes me feel. I’m in a room full of men staring down at our little interaction, and I feel they could easily be provoked to partake as a team, meaning I’d lose in a heartbeat. Lamb meet wolves.

“Cletus, get off her now.”
Thank fuck
. Ryker’s voice echoes off the walls, rumbling with the promise of devastation. 

Clit, Cletus, or whatever his name is, holds his hands high in the air, lifting his lunch along with the motion and steps back away from me. “No harm no foul. I’ll leave her boss man,” Clit winks, running his tongue along his teeth and makes a sucking in noise like a dirty kiss. Boss, huh? Hmm.

Ryker walks up to Cletus menacingly, pushing him back towards the racks as they stand chest to chest, like two gorillas vying for the last banana. “You’re bloody right you’ll fuckin’ leave her alone. Go eat your lunch and apologize to Kate, ya’ fucking pervert.” 

“Fuck you Ryk. I ain’t doing-” 

And that’s when Clit’s nasty sandwich goes flying as Ryker smashes him with a right hook to the jaw. Bits of burger hit the floor, green pickles stick to a bright red car fender, while his mustard and ketchup blend into the concrete like an abstract painting. 

Ryker pushes him back even further, raining quick hits to Clit’s face, causing blood to spurt from his cut lips. Clit’s is not the type of guy to take all the abuse. Reaching behind him, he grabs a long armed car part, taking a wide swing at Ryker’s side — it connects with a loud crack. Ryker takes a wobbly step before advancing on him once more, blowing hit after hit to his ribs and face. 

The other shop guys had taken their lunches away earlier to eat in peace, but they’ve now gathered back here to watch the day’s entertainment. With this much testosterone in a confined work area, I see there could be daily cock fights, if allowed. None of them are saying a word, nor are verbal bets taking place. Only the odd glances and winks to show who they think will take it. Ryker is the clearly the favorite. 

“You fuckin’ piece of shit,” Ryker says, taking another hit to the ribs as he twists Clit’s arm backward. The weapon dangles uselessly, leaving Clit open for another attack. Ryker advances into his space and hits him hard enough in the face that this time I’m sure a few teeth were knocked loose.  

“I’ve had about enough of your shit Ryker,” Clit spews, blood goes everywhere as he speaks through swollen lips. 

“I’ve had enough of your pedophile escapades. Ryker growls. “Get out of my shop and don’t come back, you fucking rapist.” Rapist? What the F…Are you kidding me?

“You’ll regret this Ryker,” Clit says, dropping the metal bar on the ground where it lands with a loud clatter. He rubs his mouth across his shirt, spreading blood and spittle like a Rorschach blot test. “I’ll be back here in under a week, trust me.”

“Not happenin’.” Ryker’s stance is unmovable. Even if I don’t know their history, it’s easy to see this was the last straw. Ryker isn’t about to let him back in.

“Get your shit, an’ get out.” 

Ryker has got to be in pain after the hits he took from that bar but he’s not showing it. The old, prey adage; don’t show fear or weakness. Ryker crosses his arms across his chest and steps to the side for Clit to exit the space where he had him hemmed in against the racks.

Stepping across the detritus that was once his meal Clit locks glares with Ryk, then looks down to me with a calculated sly grin. “See you soon, little troublemaker.” 

Yep creeeeeeepy. “Not any time soon, I hope.”

He passes by me, tossing an air kiss and heads for the back where I’m assuming his work area is — to collect his things. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until he vacates, and I let it flow out in a huge escape. 

“Rest of you, gather your lunch and go eat. You’ve got ten minutes,” Ryker barks out, then turns quickly away from the crowd, and from me. 

The men disperse like a flash mob, out of view in seconds as I stand there stunned. I’m not sure what I should do?  Do I leave, running straight for Harvester, and avoid the whole thing like it never happened? Normally I’m not in these situations. I’m in the car and gone before anything gets situational. 

But I’m stranded here. I have no car to run to, no place to tear off to, and no safe haven — well not really. I quickly decide the best thing to do in this instance is go back to Harvester and be in the company of Hazel and Gus, where at least I feel safe. 

The bag with Ryker, Travis and Jack’s lunch sits on the workbench, their meals getting colder by the second. I feel really bad they’ll have to eat cold food, so I tuck the top of the brown bag down to keep the heat in and start for the door as fast as I can without being noticed. 

“Kate,” Ryker says hoarsely from behind me just as I reach for the door handle. I take a deep breath, turning the handle before stepping out into the sunshine, ignoring Ryker’s commanding voice, and the confrontation that could possibly be my downfall. If I turn now, I’m not sure I can still keep my sanity. I’d been talking myself out of his invitation of a coffee date, even if it would save money, but now? Now, I don’t know if I will have the strength to turn him down after such a chivalrous move.

In just this short period of time, I’ve become afraid of so many things. I mean sure, I’ve been afraid for a long time, but that fear revolves around GF and his ability to hunt me down. This is different. This is a fear of companionship. I think someone like Ryker could make me feel again. I’m not sure I can handle that. I don’t think I could return to lonely after him, without taking a hit to my heart. He obviously uses women and discards them easily. I couldn’t take that. Sure I’ve done it to others, but to have it done to me, I think I’d collapse.  

I practically run back to Harvester, too afraid to look back. My resolve is as frail as a wounded little bird, and I don’t think I can resist him now that he’s defended my honor. Ryker is just too much man. Definitely way more man than I think I can handle. 

I step inside Harvester, my chest heaving from my little run, and find Hazel and Gus peering over paperwork on the counter. 

“Everyone ok with their lunch? No issues?” Gus asks with a wide smile. I knew that bastard put the meals in a certain order on purpose, and now I have the proof. Fucker. I doubt he knew there’d be an issue with Clit or Ryker, but he knew to put Ryker’s last in the pile. He played me, and now he’s seeing how it went. 

“No, no issues at all. It went great. Thanks.” 

“Nothin’ huh? That why Ryker’s walking across the lot like he’s about to throw you over his knee?” Hazel asks. Eyes wide, I turn away from the door and make my way to the kitchen. 

Hazel and Gus laugh as the door dings out front. I’m trying to move as fast as I can to get away from the confrontation I know is coming. If I can get out the back and into the sanctuary of Hazel’s lovely backyard, maybe he won’t find me. 

Yeah. Good luck with that Kate.

Ryker

T
he guys in the shop had stood around while the whole thing went down with that fucker, and I know more than one of them is glad I did it. It’s been a long time coming. Shit. It’s been a long time since I lost my cool too, but once I saw his hands were on her I — fuck I just couldn’t take it. 

Not too long ago, Clit had the balls to bring in really young girls, then the next day he was bragging about how he’d used drugs to make them pliant. That was one thing I found hard to turn a blind eye to. The fucker had zero morals and was a goddamn sexual deviant, and I found that hard to stomach. There’s no way I’ll work with that fucker again. The last thing I need is Jack going against my decision to kick his ass to the curb. I may not be the boss, but I run that shop. Even if Clit is from ‘the family’. 

I’ve bit my tongue long enough. Fuck my tongue. I’ve held back beating his ass for more than a month now. When he brought in that teenager a few weeks back, I knew that was the last time I’d take that creepy junior high stalking prick in my sight. 

Then today — fuck me. Seeing him running his tongue along her face, touching her, saying how he wants to show her
his type
of good time broke the last of my resolve. 

It had felt damn good to beat on his ass though. I’m pretty sure he broke a few of my ribs, but man did it ever feel amazing to knock out his teeth and mar that face. I hope he has to pull his own junk for at least a week. After the fight broke up, everyone went back to their jobs. Myself — I needed space. It was just for a minute, but I needed it so badly. I was still in such a rage, and it was the last thing I wanted someone like Kate to see. By the time I got my head on straight, she was heading for the door of the shop, running across the driveway as if her pants were on fire. 

I don’t understand what it is about this woman. She works every edge I have. Infuriates me, sends me into a rage, and makes me want to strip her naked on the spot; sometimes all of those at the same time. I can’t get her off my mind for even a single goddamn moment. I was hoping Kendra would be enough of a release, but Kate had interrupted that and sent me back to square one —  hot, horny and wanting to tear her to shreds. 

“Ryker,” Jack yells from the paint booth. I turn towards him. He’s leaning against a sixty-nine Firebird, arms folded over his chest, legs crossed at the ankle, his face an unreadable mask of steel. It’s never good when Jack looks tense. I’m sure as soon as I sent Cletus packing, he’d gone straight to Jack’s office to bitch and moan, like the pussy he is.